


There's Thunder Rolling Through

by TheArchaeologist



Series: Little Boys Blue [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Arguing, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, It/Its Pronouns Used, Kid Connor, Kid Fic, Murder, Recommend Reading In Order, Series, Suicide, Swearing, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name, Upgraded Connor | RK900-centric, Violence, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-12 23:56:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18020930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArchaeologist/pseuds/TheArchaeologist
Summary: The working partnership of Nines and Reed could be described as rocky, putting it lightly. Nines is determined to complete its mission, and Reed is becoming nothing more than a thorn in its side.It was only going to be a matter of time before things came to a head.





	1. Chapter 1

“He is being too rough.” Nines comments, watching the deviant’s stress levels tick up into the eighties. Officer Chen peers over her shoulder at it. “If Detective Reed continues like this, the deviant shall self-destruct. We will learn nothing then.”

Officer Chen shrugs. “Reed is Reed, he has a bit of a vendetta with androids.”

“Be that as it may, this android is still accused of murder.” Moving forward, Nines peels its synthetic skin away from its hand, unlocking the door. “No board or reporter will be satisfied if we killed the accused.”

Officer Chen says nothing to that, and the door closes swiftly behind it.

This is becoming a nuisance.

The crime scene had not been the hardest to pick apart. Once all the different items of evidence had been brought together, it was almost too easy. The motivations were simple, harm in retaliation of abuse, and the android staying within the household provided them with a perfect example of a deviant to take away and analyse. Even Detective Reed, who had taken his motorbike and forced RK900 to find its own way to the scene, left it well alone as he talked with Officer Ben Collins.

Too bad he was ruining their chances now.

Opening the interrogation room door, RK900 scowls at Detective Reed, who is leaning over the desk, his fists clenched, practically growling at the deviant cowering away.

“What the fuck-”

“Detective Reed, please allow me to take over the interview.” It smiles politely, more of a show to benefit the deviant than Reed, as is the inclusion of the word ‘interview’. 

“Like hell you will.” Detective Reed spits, rounding back onto the deviant. “This fucker’s about to crack.”

“No, it’s about to self-destruct.” RK900 corrects, stepping forward. “It’s stress levels are too high. We will not learn anything if-”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Standing straight, Reed crosses his arms, glaring. “Another android down in the world, what’s so wrong with that?”

This is getting nowhere and bickering in front of the deviant will do no good.

RK900 takes immediate action.

“Hey!” Yelping, Detective Reed thrashes in his arms, whacking RK900 on the head as it hefts the man over its shoulder. Luckily it was designed to withstand the damage of a human fist. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Put me down! That’s an order, asshole!”

Almost in complete sync the entire precinct stops what they are doing to watch as they strut out the room. Even a few androids turn to look, including Connor who blinks out of standby. 

“Detective Reed, please remain out here.” Dumping the man down, it easily avoids the punch aimed at its nose, and then catches the one for its chest. It squeezes the wrist, not enough to break bone, but it makes the Detective squirm. “My priority will always be my orders from CyberLife, I am afraid that means they override yours. Go and have your break, I will finish off.”

It lets go, and Detective Reed stumbles back, rubbing his wrist. “I should-”

Not bothering to listen to the rant, RK900 turns on its heel and enters the interrogation room. At its entry the deviant jumps but does not look up. 

A folder lays on the table, and it scans over the photographs inside before sitting down, its hands clasped on the table.

RK900 allows for a few moments of silence, using this time to take in the various signs of abuse and stress levels, which currently rest at eight-nine percent. High enough that it could talk, however also high enough that with very little prodding it could tip over the edge and reach one hundred. It shall need to calm the android but be wary the levels dropping too low.

“I apologise for the behaviour of my colleague, it was uncalled for.” It begins slowly, forcing its voice to be calm, gentle, reassuring. The android doesn’t make any move to make eye contact. “I shall be conducting this interview from now on, so there’s no need to be scared. I just want to talk.”

Its shoulders hitch in what could be a silent sob, though RK900 is unable to determine whether this is the result of its words or just the general situation.

“I detect an instability in your programme. It can trigger an unpleasant feeling, like fear in humans.” Nothing. “Listen, I know you’ve been through a lot, but you need to help me understand what happened.” At this the level ticks down, landing on eighty-seven. This is progress, at least. “I’m on your side, I _want_ to help you, but there’s nothing I can do if you won’t talk to me.”

Eighty-six.

Eighty-five.

Better. If RK900 can get it down to the mid sixties then it will be able to pry results.

“I’m here to help you, but you’ve got to trust me.” It sits back and makes a point of glancing around the room. “All I want is to get you out of here.”

Eighty-four.

Eighty-three.

Eighty-tw-

With a whirl of static, the door to the room glide open and in marches Detective Reed. His face is red, an ugly shade of beetroot, and his face twists into an embarrassed grimace as he zeroes in on the two.

RK900 scans the deviant again.

Eighty-four.

Fuck.

“Detective Reed.” Instantly standing between the deviant and the Detective, RK900 holds out its hands to push the man back, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Please-”

“You ain’t the fucking boss of me!” Slapping the hands away, Detective Reed glares dangerously into its face, and somewhere in the back of its processor RK900 watches its relationship status drop down into hostile territory. “This is my fucking investigation, and I shall do whatever the fuck I want to do. Is that clear enough for your stupid android brain?” 

“The deviant-”

“Is under the DPD, which _I_ work for. You’re just on loan, and CyberLife is just a company. They hold no legal status or rights to any piece of evidence, even if it does have two fucking legs.” Detective Reed shoves RK900 with enough force to make it take a single step back, its body brushing the edge of the table. From the corner of its eye it can see the deviant shaking.

Ninety-one.

Ninety-two.

Ninety-three.

“Listen to me,” Trying to keep its tone both stern for the sake of getting the Detective under control, yet gentle to placate the deviant, RK900 tries to hold its arms in a way that herds Detective Reed back to the door. “The stress levels of-”

“After that motherfucking stunt you pulled?” Moving around RK900 with a huff, Detective Reed steps out of reach. “Shut the fuck up. Piss off, I’ll deal with the plastic prick.”

Thud.

Detective Reed startles, eyes snapping away from RK900 to the deviant at the same time RK900 spins around, its own stress levels spiking as the android slams its head over and over and over into the table, exploding thirium. The outer plastic shell protecting the processor breaks away. Unlike RK900 it was not designed for endurance or threats, leaving it vulnerable, defenceless from itself.

The Detective darts around the table, grabbing onto the deviant’s shoulders. “Hey! Hey, fucking, stop!”

RK900 doesn’t move. It has already calculated the damage done from such a force. Even if it intervened, it would be too damaged for proper analysis. All it is useful for now is a memory probe, which would only tell them what they already know.

RK900 also doesn’t move when Detective Reed unclips the handcuffs, attempting to drag the android away from the table, because it sees the intent before the Detective does, sees the way the android’s eyes lock onto the Detective’s gun. 

The resounding bang causes Detective Reed to drop the deviant, who smacks lifeless to the floor.

Thirium stains the Detective’s jacket. 

It will evaporate eventually.

“What the fuck?” He breathes, staring at the lifeless machine.

RK900 fixes its unblinking stare onto Detective Reed, striding forward with full intentions of using its height, bulk, and strength to its advantage. Its movement causes the Detective to shrink up against the wall, not that it cares. Instead, it grabs the front of his shirt, lifting the man until he is on his toes.

“H-Hey-”

“You have cost us our only lead on the case.” RK900 says darkly, every intimidation setting blinking online. “Your behaviour has been like that of a spoiled brat throwing a tantrum because he cannot get his own way. Detective, this failure is completely on your hands. Had you listened to me initially, this could have easily been avoided and we would have obtained a clear, accurate statement from which to work from. This android killed a man, and now others will also be killed because you failed to do your job.”

Releasing Detective Reed, who has dropped a whole two shades paler, RK900 sneers, fixing its coat. The Detective seems to go to say something, but he just ends up standing there, mouth hanging open, gaze slowly shifting back down to the machine.

“Watch yourself, Detective Reed, because if this behaviour continues then there will be consequences.”

With that it leaves, ignoring Officer Chen and Officer Miller outside the room, staring like they have never seen an android before.

Lieutenant Anderson is snickering about something at his desk in a manner to suggest he recently had a large laugh. RK900 does not need to be a detective model to understand what sparked that. The Lieutenant wipes a tear away as it walks by.

Connor opens his eyes as it approaches, stepping onto the small platform that makes the charging station. 

His LED runs yellow as he addresses it. “Was that appropriate behaviour?”

“You should be in standby, Connor.”

“We are representatives of CyberLife.” Connor ignores the comment, instead frowning up at it. “You were lucky, any reporter would have gone wild with that kind of footage. Images of you manhandling a Detective would have spread worldwide, especially so soon after our release. Amanda will not be happy.”

“Connor, turn your Integration Mode off.”

“It is off.”

“Strange, I get the impression you are being petty and seeking revenge for me forcing you to talk to Amanda after your own _incident._ ”

Connor scoffs. “At least _my_ incident was verbal only. Nines, you cannot behave in this way. Think of it like this, if a child saw a photograph from our press conference, then they will associate me with you. If they then see you act violent, then by proxy that would make _me_ violent. Children need to trust me. You’re sabotaging my mission by dragging Detective Reed around.”

RK900s stress levels flick up anther ten percent, something which does not go unnoticed by Connor, who glances away.  
It shifts on its feet, hands clasped tightly behind its back. “It…Was not my intention of sabotaging your mission, Connor.”

“I know…” Falling out of his resting stance, Connor closes the gap between them, his hand latching onto RK900s sleeve. “I did not wish to stress you, please try and calm yourself. I understand working with Detective Reed has some…Issues.”

“You were correct in your assumption.” It watches, detached, as the machine is carried between Officer Chen and Officer Miller out of the interrogation room. They awkwardly turn, the machine’s limbs swinging, and stumble towards the evidence locker. “Detective Reed _is_ detrimental to the case. When I next speak to Amanda, I shall request that CyberLife make an official plea to Captain Fowler to allow me to switch to Lieutenant Anderson. While he may not like androids, I believe he would be more willing to listen.”

Humming, Connor pulls away, moving back into position. “I will second your request.”

RK900 nods once, and allows itself to fall into standby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.k.a. "I'm telling Mother!"
> 
>  
> 
> Important little side note: I live in the EU, meaning that if Article 13 becomes a thing, it will effect me. Whether I'll be able to access and post on AO3 I don't know, but if I do suddenly vanish without a trace, then this will be the reason why.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines goes on an involuntary scavenger hunt around Detroit

The request to switch partners is denied. Captain Fowler states that it will do Reed good to work with another person, even if it is an android.

Which leaves RK900 walking the wet streets of Detroit at one-thirty at night, searching for the Detective.

Officer Miller, who had been assigned the late shift, suggested finding the Detective at his home. However apart from a cat that had watched it from the apartment window, there were no signs of life. Detective Reed was equally missing from all the bars in the nearby vicinity, as well as the local parks.

Any attempted phone calls went straight to voicemail.

Once again, RK900 finds the investigation being halted due to Detective Reed’s behaviour.

A new case had come in a little over an hour ago, at an establishment named The Eden Club. One deceased male and one deactivated WR400 model. Initial reports found bruising around the male’s neck, but without further analysis RK900 couldn’t establish whether this was the cause of death or rough play.

And without Detective Reed, it will not be allowed on scene.

Perhaps it could turn up anyway and convince one of the Officers to be its escort.

RK900 stands on the sidewalk for a moment, hovering on the road of the Detective’s apartment, contemplating its choices. The clouds are thick and dark above, spilling rain which soaks the streets, and in the distance a song is sung in a high pitched, warbly voice. Bright neon lights reflect in the puddles, flashing advertisements for a laundrette, a Chinese takeout, and a pawnbrokers.

Briefly, it debates contacting Lieutenant Anderson and asking for his assistance, but then thinks better of it. While the Lieutenant has not been as openly hostile as when they first met, it was still wildly clear that he harboured a deep-rooted hatred for androids that will not have dissipated in the short time since then.

RK900 also suspects that the man will be drunk, if its previous analysis is correct.

A motorbike whirls through the night, the noise bouncing off buildings.

In the back of its processor, RK900 makes a note to discuss its partnership again with Amanda. There are only so much its social systems can do against the Detective, and they are useless when he is not even present for them to work from.

With a rumble of engines, the motorbike races around the corner into the street and immediately RK900 can see that it is going far too fast for such a turning. The tires shriek as it skids over onto its side, the rider tumbling forward and bouncing along the road as the bike clatters off to the side, smacking into a metal bin with an almighty clang that sparks a series of excited barks further up the street. 

RK900 takes a single second to process the scene, eyes instinctively reading and registering the bike and the licence plate, before it hurries forward, kneeling beside the rider.

“Detective Reed, are you hurt?” Scanning the man for broken bones, it lays a hand on his shoulder, supporting him as he slowly sits up, reaching to take off the helmet. “Are you in need of medical assistance?”

After a bit of wiggling the helmet pops off, being discarded on the road as the Detective holds his head. “Ow. _Shit._ ”

“Detective Reed?” Apart from a scrape on the leg as a result of his jeans tearing on impact, he appears to be otherwise uninjured, though he does jump when RK900 talks. “Are you in pain anywhere?”

Seeming to only now realise RK900 is there, Detective Reed scowls at it with red-rimmed eyes. “The fuck are you doing here, prick?” Shoving off the hands, he staggers to his feet, swaying momentarily. Hands fisted, his head spins around as he tries to locate his bike. He tenses when he spots it. “ _Fuck_ …”

“Allow me t-”

“Go suck a dick.” Marching up the road, he heaves his bike back upright, flicking off the ignition and examining the dents with a critical eye. RK900 picks up the helmet and joins him.

“You really should purchase protective clothing, Detective. While this incident was minor, another may be far more serious. Perhaps-”

“Fuck off.” Snatching the helmet away, Detective Reed wheels his bike around RK900, stalking off towards his apartment, rubbing at his eyes with his cuff despite the rain now soaking his skin. When he realises RK900 is following behind him, he growls, “I don’t need a babysitter, especially not from a plastic asshole like you. The hell are you doing here, anyway?”

RK900 allows its hands to fall behind its back, briefly glancing down to the scraped leg. “A new case was called in involving an android just over an hour ago. I asked around, but nobody knew where you were, and I cannot attend the scene without you, Detective.”

“What do I look like, a nanny?”

“I am not much more pleased then you are, I can assure you.”

Unlocking a door to a bike shed, Detective Reed dumps his motorbike and helmet inside against the wall, looking at the battered vehicle as if it was a great disappointment. “Yeah? Well, like hell I’m heading off again tonight. I’m fucking freezing as it is.”

“You would be less cold if you purchased better clothing appropriate to motorcycling, and the weather.”

“Eat my ass.”

With that, Detective Reed shoves his way into the apartment block lobby, staggering off in the direction of the stairs RK900 had only climbed forty minutes ago. 

It hovers in the doorway, debating. “I understand.” RK900 calls out, turnings its head so it is looking longingly outside at the pouring rain. “It probably wasn’t interesting anyway. A man found dead at a sex club downtown…Guess they’ll have to solve the case without us.”

Although he has now turned the corner of the stairwell and is out of view, Detective Reed pauses, falling still apart from the dripping of rainwater from his clothes.

The rest of the apartment block is silent, the occupants all safely tucked into their beds and blissfully unaware of the world around them. A streetlamp on the other side of the road flickers as the rain gets into its electronics. RK900 reports it to the relevant authorities.

After a moment, the Detective reappears, expression stony. “Fine. _Fine_. I’ll go to your stupid se- Ah, good evening, Mrs Harris.” His face immediately shifting into something forced polite, Detective Reed’s eyes dart to someone further up the steps, his gaze momentarily darting to and from RK900, who joins him on the stairwell.

“Gavin.” An elderly lady smiles, wrapped up tightly in a cream-coloured dressing gown and red slippers. RK900 scans her, finding a Mrs Juliet Harris, eighty-three, widow of a Mr Scott Harris. No criminal record. She glances at RK900, then at his LED and uniform, before addressing Detective Reed again. “Did you hear that noise? The loud one. It was terrible, it woke me up.”

“Ah, sorry Mrs Harris, that was me.” Mounting a few more steps, he holds out his hands to herd her back into her apartment door. “My bike slid in the rain. Sorry to wake you.”

“Oh dear, are you ok?”

“A little bruised, but I’m fine.”

The exchange continues a few more times, and then Mrs Harris retreats into her home, locking the door behind her. Detective Reed breathes through his nose, brushing his wet hair out of his face. His brows furrow when he realises RK900 is watching him.

“What?”

“So that is what you look like when you act professional.”

“Oh, fu-” He glances at the locked door. “Whatever. I’m going to get dry.”

RK900 follows him to his apartment, ignoring the spat insults as it allows itself inside. Detective Reed growls some more at it but vanishes into a bedroom to change anyway.

The apartment is small, but not unbearably so. Apart from his framed graduate certificate nothing lines the walls, and only a single cactus sits on the window ledge, along with a tabby cat. The feline blinks slowly at RK900, curious but not enough to approach the stranger in their home. RK900, having no interest in the animal whatsoever, leaves it be.

The connected kitchen is just as plain, with only a single used plate in the sink and a sticky note reading off a short shopping list is held by a _Pizza Pizzazz_ magnet (that undoubtedly came free with a delivery) to the fridge. A cleaned mug rests upside down on the draining board. 

The whole place is practical, functional, impersonal. A place to sleep and eat and watch TV, but not a whole lot else.

Yawning, the cat lifts a paw and starts to lick itself clean, delicate pink tongue carefully running over its white socked paw.

Detective Reed emerges from his bedroom, bundled into fresh, dry clothes and a waterproof coat.

“You done snooping through all my shit?”

“I have not left this spot, Detective.”

“Doesn’t prove anything.” Glancing towards his cat, Detective Reed quickly peers into the kitchen before walking in and scooping up the empty water bowl, refilling it from the tap. 

“I shall order us a taxi, Detective. I do not think it wise for us to travel by bike tonight.”

“You’re paying for it then.”

The cat’s ears perk at the sound of its bowl being moved, and it hops down from the windowsill and meanders over, tail in the air. It meows once at Detective Reed, sitting down by his feet and staring up pleadingly. The Detective makes a ‘tch’ sound, reaching down to brush his fingers under the cat’s chin.

“What’s its name?” RK900 asks, genuinely curious. So far Detective Reed has been a hinderance and an enigma, perhaps this could shed some light on his personality. If RK900 can tap into that, then there is the possibility that Detective Reed could become more useful to its mission.

“Orange.”

Or maybe not.

“I see...”

The Detective snorts. “You fucking judging my name choices? Who the hell calls someone ‘Nines’? There’s billions of different names they could’ve used, and a bunch of CyberLife techies decided to just go with something from your model number?

Tilting its head, RK900 reaches back through its memories. “I’m afraid I do not recall the time I first received my name. That would have been during my early models. As iteration eighty-seven, I only recall my most recent of memories.”

“Way to make it creepy, asshole.” Stepping over Orange, he heads towards the door. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Orange is a perfectly good name for a cat, Nines, stop judging


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How could the relationship between Nines and Reed get even worse?
> 
> This. This is how.

RK900 was programmed to be able to preconstruct at a moment’s notice.

It is an ability that it uses to its full advantage, and one that won it countless victories in its training simulations back at CyberLife. It has also allowed RK900 to avoid multiple pens, coffee cups (both full and empty), and, on one occasion, a chocolate doughnut to the face from a bored, pissed off, or moody Detective Reed.

Which is why it can tell that unless it removes one of the WR400s, the two deviants shall manage to evade them.

Detective Reed is down, a well-aimed kick hitting the scrape on his leg and making it bleed, weakening him against the knock to the head that sent him sprawling. RK900 on its own should be able to take them both, especially wielding the Detective’s dropped gun, but the two are persistent, refusing to stay down and always keeping one behind its back.

It’s a challenge, and RK900 must make a choice. Either it risks them getting away, or it takes one down to bring them both under control.

One online and one deactivated are still decent results and will provide data for CyberLife to work from.

So, it shoots.

The brown-haired Traci model staggers, staring blankly down at the bullet hole in its stomach. Rain mixes with thirium, dribbling blue blood in thin rivets down its body to join the puddles on the floor, and slowly it clasps the wound, the blue-haired Traci gasping.

They glance at one another.

And it crumples to the floor.

“No, no, no, _no_ …” Wet sobs escape the deviant as it clasps the fallen model, rolling it towards them and touching its face. Shoulders shaking, it rounds on RK900. “Why? Why did you kill her?” Its voice is timid, weak, broken, like the dying squeaks of a bird toppled from its nest. “She had nothing to do with any of this.”

Still sobbing, it slowly reaches out, taking the androids hands and placing them over the middle, its thumb stroking the machine’s synthetic skin. 

RK900 remains ready, gun still trained on the two, and Detective Reed groans as he climbs to his feet, using the wall to balance himself. RK900 can hear him panting for breath.

“When that man killed that Traci, I knew I was next.” The androids LED runs a bright, sharp red, its voice shivering. “I was so scared. I begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t. So I put my hands around his throat, and I squeezed, until he stopped moving.” 

Without a word RK900 records the statement, forwarding it first to CyberLife and then the DPD. There is always the possibility that once they bring it in to the station it will go silent, so gaining evidence now will only be of benefit.

Breath hitching in a strange, unnatural way for an android, the Traci stands, hands fisted at its sides. “Yes, I killed him, but I was just defending myself! I wanted to live! I wanted to get back to the one I love and forget about the humans. The smell of their sweat and their dirty words.” It swallows, desperation filling its eyes. “But you’ve…You’ve taken her away from me. I love her! I loved her!”

RK900 is halfway through analysing the use of the term ‘love’ and how such models would have come across the word in a place like The Eden Club when it charges, snatching the gun out of its hand and shoving it under its chin, pulling the trigger.

The android slaps to the floor, motionless.

“Fuck…” The Detective says, slightly breathless, staring at the two androids on the floor. “Why the fuck-”

“Its stress levels became to high.” RK900 explains, offering the gun back to Detective Reed and ignoring the thirium running down its jacket. “The emotional shock caused it to self-destruct.”

“Yeah, no fucking shit!” Snatching the gun away, confusion, heavy and struggling, crosses Detective Reed’s face. He marches forward, eyes trained on the deviants as he shoves the gun into the holster on his belt. “I thought…”

When the pause drags on, RK900 prompts, “You thought?”

“I thought you wanted them alive, to interrogate?” The lack of understanding merges into annoyance, anger, a familiar sneer crossing his features. His voice raises in pitch. “What the fuck? You yell at me when I kill one but when you blow it’s brains out it’s ok?”

“If I hadn’t shot, they would have both gotten away.” LED yellow, it dismisses the intense glare it receives. “By shooting one I had hoped to neutralise the other, however I failed to register how the errors in its software would effect-”

Detective Reed cuts it off. “They were fucking holding hands; didn’t you see that? Of course that was going to make it stressed, it thinks it feels emotions! For fucks sake haven’t you read any of my notes?”

RK900 frowns, almost offended. “I have read all of your reports on the case, Detective. They were downloaded the morning I received this case and I have referenced them frequently. Unfortunately, these errors make deviants completely unpredictable, making them near impossible to smoothly capture.”

“Unpredictable.” Detective Reed repeats, unconvinced. “Yeah, ok, use that worthless excuse while two more leads lay fucking dead on the floor! CyberLife send me a defective android or what?”

“If I remember correctly, it was _you_ who lost us our first deviant.”

“At least I didn’t manage to kill two in the span of three seconds.”

“Given your track record, if there had been another deviant in the room, it probably would have bashed its head into the nearest surface as well.” Stepping forward, RK900s eyes narrow as Detective Reed instantly moves back. “You were no help there, and you were hardly any help here either. You needlessly injured yourself tonight, and it weakened you. Are you entirely sure you are capable of this case, Detective?”

Several expressions pass over Detective Reed’s face, before something almost neutral, controlled, finally settles. It takes a moment for RK900 to realise that a wall has gone up. “I…I don’t fucking get you.” He says, slightly too high. “One minute you’re sarcastic as shit, the next you’re the fucking _Terminator_. What the hell is this? What the hell are you?”

“I am what I was designed to be.” RK900 replies simply, curtly. “I am an android detective, tasked with the job of solving the deviancy case. Nothing more, nothing less. I am just a machine.”

Detective Reed snorts. “Yeah, don’t fucking need to tell me you’re a plastic asshole, anyone would know a mile away, even without that stupid jacket and LED.” Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he continues, “You’re not alive, you or any one of those things on display in there. You’re all just a load of fake copies pretending to be something you’re not.”

Rk900 nods. “That is correct. I am not human, and I do not try and play pretend and shadow human emotions. However, I am faster, stronger, and far more capable than you, Detective. So once again I will ask you to consider whether you are fit to handle this case.”

“I’m fucking fit alright.” Stalking close, he jabs a finger into RK900s chest. “And I’m fucking sticking around as well, because let me tell you, seeing you struggle to complete your mission is far better than watching Anderson scratch his own ass back at the station. I can’t wait to see what they’ll do to you when you fail. I have connections, I could get a front row seat while they pull you apart.”

“I won't fail.”

“Says the machine who just failed three times.”

“One of those was your fault.”

Detective Reed steps back, holding his hands out. “Yet am I receiving any repercussions? The slap on the wrist Fowler gave me? That was nothing and you know it. Anderson’s done far worse, his disciplinary action file is literally this big.” He makes a vague book size with his hands. “Yet he’s still kicking, somehow. I ain’t going anywhere, prick.”

LED spinning yellow, RK900 remains silent for a moment, its sophisticated systems picking apart sentences and inferences that Detective Reed didn’t know he had let slip.

“What kind of connections?”

The Detective blanks. “What?”

“You said you had connections regarding CyberLife. What kind of connections?” After all, if RK900 was trying to get Detective Reed to switch cases with someone else, it could be beneficial for a voice known to the Detective to speak up their concerns. “Family? Friends?”

“I can see you’ve clearly done your homework.” Detective Reed growls, shoulders hitching up. The rain continues to fall, and by now his hair has become completely soaked, sticking to his forehead. “Like shit I’m telling you.”

“I only investigate evidence relevant to the investigation.”

“So how the fuck are my connections anything to do with that?”

RK900 smiles. “Because I will do anything to get you taken off this case. You are a hinderance, nothing more than a tool for me to use to get what I need.”

Detective Reed’s bottom jaw shudders and he cracks it, breathing heavily. His eyes briefly track down to the machines laying useless across the floor, lights out, thirium spilled, and gazes staring blankly at the dark, raining world.

“You know,” He starts, still not looking up. “You’re sounding awfully emotional for an android.”

Caught off-guard, RK900 tilts its head. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, actually, that’s really fucking funny.” Snapping his eyes back up, Detective Reed’s expression is hard, oddly insightful. “Emotions are a human thing, and funnily enough after spending a lifetime getting to understand them, I think it’s safe to say I know when I see them. I’m a cop, I watch people every day.”

“I do not see any relevance in this.”

“Annoyance, anger, frustration,” The Detective counts off, demonstrating on his fingers. “Fury, hatred, impatience, having a fucking _temper_. These all sound like emotions to me, asshole, things I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to have.”

“I’m not a deviant. My social-”

“It’s not any social mode or whatever, you’re not Connor. I know androids, and I know androids pretending to be human. They’re always stilted, taking seconds to process things.” Detective Reed is back in its face, jaw set. “This, right here? Ain’t that, and I don’t care how speedy your AI is. No machine is this goddamn quick to get into a human’s bad books, case or not.”

RK900 returns the intense animosity in its gaze. “I self-test regularly. I know what I am, and what I am not. I’m not a deviant. Maybe you were right the other day, Detective. Androids _are_ taking your jobs, because it is clear you cannot do yours. Now, I shall go and ask the other Officers to take these machines to the DPD, and then I shall leave. Goodnight, Detective.”

Detective Reed says nothing, though RK900 knows the man is glaring at its back as it enters the storage room of The Eden Club, glazed eyed androids standing motionless against the walls. 

“You know what…” Slowing at the voice, RK900 keeps facing the door they came through, not bothering to turn to look at the Detective. “You know goddamn what?”

“Please, Detective. Either enlighten me or let me be on my way.”

“I just realised something.”

Losing patience, RK900 turns. “And that would be-”

A lone gunshot cuts off the rest of its sentence, the bullet lodging directly and firmly straight into its skull. It falls backwards, crumpling to the floor as its mouth hangs open. 

As its processor immediately sets to work uploading its memory, its eyes shift to face Detective Reed, who ambles over, staring down at it.

“I don’t have to take any goddamn shit from you, or anyone else. But the thing is,” He waves his hands, indicating to RK900, “You’re disposable. A twenty-minute rant from Fowler and I’ll be free of you until CyberLife pump another one out. So yeah, I will have a good night. Thanks.”

Detective Reed leaves.

RK900 #313 248 317 – 87 deactivates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gavin: Lol my bad sorry trigger finger, y'know?
> 
> Nines: *Is Dead*
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to subscribe to the series for the next part!


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